


Red Haze

by 17thousand



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Drinking & Talking, F/M, Late Night Conversations, Post-Star Wars: A New Hope, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29188557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/17thousand/pseuds/17thousand
Summary: An early conversation with the Princess / Han gets ahead of himself
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo
Comments: 5
Kudos: 37





	Red Haze

The celebrations seemed endless in the days following their victory over Yavin. The Empire had never been humiliated like this since its brutal inception, and the news swept the galaxy. Now, on one of the new interim bases on a glorified rock in the middle of nowhere, a parade of new recruits arrived each day. They were the ones who had packed a bag the moment the Death Star’s explosion was reported on the underground channels. Transported through the rebel networks on their respective planets, they travelled from safehouse to safe port to incognito ship before arriving giddy and sleep-deprived, to the cheers and toasts of their fellow rebels. The heady rush of belonging to something greater than themselves cancelled out the hangovers, and they seemed to float through the early morning patrols and memorization exercises, the lines at the canteen, and the endless security trainings. Each new task a revelation, a necessary and noble step towards their shared dream.

Han couldn’t relate. He’d enlisted in something at their age, sure, but that was more for protection than for anything else. The Empire didn’t require much conviction of its recruits. He’d stood up for injustice in the heat of the moment – the Wookie currently snoring on his ship could testify to that – but that had been his temper getting the best of him. He was lucky to have survived the fallout. Just when he’d thought that this hot-headed streak was safely behind him, laid to rest in the boneyard of his youth, a farm boy and a princess had somehow touched a nerve and triggered it again, spurring his last-minute return to their fateful battle. He was still trying to work that one out.

But signing up for martyrdom, on purpose, like these kids had? _Planning_ your own, likely demise? No way.

\--

On Friday nights, the pilots played Sabacc, and it was as good an excuse as any for everybody else to mill around the hangar and drink. Even her Worship had joined them tonight, staying close to Luke. It was an odd sight. Leia didn’t blend in, despite her Alliance fatigues and boots, or her underfed, overworked pallor. Han wouldn’t call her _fake_ , but she sure didn’t seem natural, mingling with the mechanics and Alliance grunts. Her youth made her a peer. Her palace upbringing and her security clearance created distance. The revelers welcomed her accordingly – not as an interloper, sent down from the upper echelons to enforce or report back, more like a distinguished visitor. Here to watch the gambling in an unofficial capacity, allowing herself one illicitly smuggled ale with a wry smile, as though out of respect for the prevailing mood of the occasion. He’d never seen anyone make a beer bottle look elegant, but it looked like fine crystal in her dainty hand.

A _diplomat._ That was it. Han chuckled to himself as he sorted his cards. It was obvious, really, but he’d needed to piece it together his own way. This was progress. She’d been occupying too much space in his head lately, with her sharp tongue and her low opinion of him, and he was relieved to have found a box for her.

The pilots were playing for spare credits and laughs, a more relaxed ambiance than Han was used to. He won a few hands easily, then wandered away from the card game, not wanting to overstay his welcome. _Boring party anyway_. They’d all already pledged their allegiance to the cause and to each other, so couldn’t they talk about something else? Good thing he wasn’t sticking around much longer, Han thought as he wove through the exuberant revolutionaries.

What passed for air on this planet tasted strongly of rust. The Rebels had suspended their physical fitness drills for the duration of their stay here because breathing in too deeply made everyone lightheaded. Everything was slightly red – the ground, the dust, the atmosphere – which made the dull lights of the open-sided hangar glow pink. The _Millennium Falcon_ was docked at the edge of the fleet, half-in, half-out of the durasteel awning, ready to take off at a moment’s notice. From his new vantage point several paces away from the crowd, Han contemplated the recruits’ matching uniforms and Leia’s perfect posture as he leaned against the _Falcon_ ’s hull, determined to finish the glass of punch they’d poured him. Then he’d call it a night. Right now, he needed to clear his mind. He’d been intent on solving her for days – ever since she came onboard his rescue ship and insulted him – and he didn’t want to bring thoughts of her into his cabin. That’s what the box was for.

In vain. As he drank, Han idly wondered if he’d ever been with a girl as short as her. Yes, once. About that size. Shaved head. He’d bounced her up and down on his lap, her legs dangling over the sides of the pilot’s seat. Then he’d picked her up and turned her around. He’d liked that. The princess looked good but he doubted she’d be much fun, if the rigid spine was any indication. Or would she be? Maybe it would be fun to loosen her up. Melt her ice shield, see how hot he could get her? He couldn’t think of the last time he’d had to work for it like that. These days, he was usually happy to entertain just about any humanoid female who winked at him, and there were plenty. He knew one in almost every major space station. There were two of them within a three-hour jump, in fact. Easy. Did princesses even –

“Good evening, Captain Solo,” the princess said, materializing in front of him. Han coughed up his drink, startled. Somehow he hadn’t registered her approach, even though he’d been staring straight at her over the rim of his cup. It had been a very long week.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

He looked down into her upturned face, framed by sable braids. She really was very small, and her features reminded him of a doll he’d seen in a window once. Delicate. But she felt warmer up close. She was still holding her solitary bottle of ale, letting it swing from her slender fingers.

“Nope,” Han shrugged, regaining his composure. “Off to the Mid Rim tomorrow morning. Another fetch-it run for your dear leaders.”

A loud cheer spilled over from the party, where toasts were being made. Leia took a sip of her beer, almost automatically. Han followed suit.

“Have you given any more thought to enlisting?” She said, after a pause.

“There’s a bounty on my head,” he reminded her. “I’m just getting you kids settled here, but I gotta leave soon. Jabba made me an offer I can’t refuse.” That was gangster code for _Drop it._ He didn’t want to get into it right now. Up to his neck in debt, bad decisions, and the mob. It was nice to stand in the shadow of his ship, far away from it all, and forget. Pretend that he often drank with doe-eyed royalty. That they were equals, and that it could lead somewhere. He didn’t want her to drag his ugly story out into the soft light.

But Leia didn’t speak scumbag. “So go pay him and come back –“ she began.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Han took a long, fortifying swig, for patience. “Because I’m not in the kind of business you can walk away from. I told you, this is the fastest ship in the galaxy. At least when I’m piloting her, anyway. He wants us both working for him, and if he can’t have me he’ll take her. When I go pay him, he’ll ask me to do another job. If I say no, he’ll put that bounty right back on me. It’s complicated.”

Leia didn’t look convinced. She brought her bottle up to her lips and sipped thoughtfully, tipping her chin up to catch the last drops. Red dust had settled on her hair, and the rosy glow of the hangar felt like a bubble around them. He’d be damned if he let her keep talking about Jabba.

“Plus, I got a Wookie to feed,” he said. “You know how much the furball eats? The Alliance can’t afford that. This life debt business is a racket.”

“Life debt?” The princess swayed slightly on her feet, as though under the weight of such a concept, and reached a small hand out against the ship to steady herself. Was she drunk? Off one beer? Her eyes were shining as she gazed up at him, Han noted, and her cheeks were tinged with a flush. The hazards of being tiny, he supposed. Pretty, though.

“That’s what he says. I didn’t ask for any of it. You alright? Here, have a seat.” He pointed to the haphazard stack of crates besides them. She climbed up carefully, accepting his proffered hand, and arranged her limbs into a rather graceful perch. The added height brought her almost to his level. He took a step closer.

Drunk or not, Leia wasn’t finished. “Everyone here has a price on their heads,” she pressed on. “Only it’s not some mobster after us, it’s the emperor. Wouldn’t you rather serve a greater cause than live and die for the spice trade? You’re risking your life either way. Don’t you want it to have _mattered_?” She had that look now: the one he’d seen on her when she argued with the other members of High Command, and she knew she’d scored a point. Like she was trying not to savor it. He decided he didn’t mind; she didn’t usually talk to him for this long, or get this animated. Maybe that was promising.

“Well, sure, but if I die I’ll be dead, so then I won’t care either way,” he replied absently, watching her dark lashes flutter. Was _he_ drunk? What was in this “Rebel Punch” anyway? It tasted like syrup and dust.

Leia laughed at that, a full, sweet laugh that caught them both by surprise. Her eyes didn’t leave his as her expression burst open, and Han felt a thrill somewhere in his chest. Like seeing a magic trick. He hadn’t heard her laugh before, not really. Only heard the crazed sound of terrified relief when the garbage chute stopped crushing them or after the Death Star exploded, but that was different. This laugh was nice, and it pulled him in like gravity.

“Oh, you like that? I got more,” he found himself saying, resting an arm on the metal siding above her head. “Why don’t you come up for a real drink? I’ll read you my Corellian joke book. I’ll give you the good stuff, the whiskey I don’t let the Kid touch.”

Leia chuckled and held his gaze for another beat, then hopped off the crates. A smile still played on her pert lips as she tilted her head up to appraise his ship. _Is she - ?_ His pulse jumped. She ran a slim finger along a seam in the hull plating, and he felt it on his skin, sending a hot shiver running through him. He stared, electrified, as her large eyes followed the seam all the way to the cockpit. _Really? No way! Does she –_

“No thank you, Captain. I don’t drink whiskey.” She turned those large eyes back to him. “We appreciate you taking the supply mission. I’ll see you when you get back.”

With the last curve of a smile, the princess left him adrift.

After she crossed the hangar and disappeared through one of the doors to the barracks, Han looked down at his empty cup and considered re-joining the festivities. See if he couldn’t pick something up there and put out what she’d started, since he wouldn’t fall asleep now anyway. He’d spotted a handful of other pretty faces over the past few nights, but he had yet to put the moves on any of them. Those girls were off-putting to him somehow, even the nice-looking ones. Rebellious types. The kind who thought they were so valiant for running away from home and joining the underground. Throwing away everything his type had stopped dreaming about as kids: the families who feared for them, the empty beds. One of them had draped herself over his shoulder earlier and purred about feeling more alive than ever, and it had irked him.

Leia had many irritating qualities, but she wasn’t like that. Han gave credit where it was due. This had always been her life, from what he’d gleaned about Alderaan’s royal family and their propensity for sedition. Weren’t rich parents supposed to _protect_ their kids? These nobles had groomed their only daughter for revolution, then tossed her right into Vader’s maw. Something wasn’t right there, he thought, but he couldn’t fault her for doubling down now. She had nothing to go back to, and he understood revenge.

Han suddenly felt sad.

No, it was better not to try anything tonight. He was leaving soon anyway. _Clean exit_ , he reminded himself, and tossed his cup into one of the open crates.

Xx

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
